Things Fall Apart
by Darkeyes92
Summary: Alternate Universe; full details of such inside. The two young Princes of Archenland travel to Calormen for the first time. but the question remains, can they both keep their heads long enough to get home again?
1. Calormen

**Things Fall Apart**

_"Living fire begets cold, impotent ash."  
__**- Chinua Achebe, **__**Things Fall Apart**__**, Ch. 17**_

**Author: **folklifefreak

**Disclaimer: **Sadly I am not C. S. Lewis, if anyone things I have the intellegence to create this world, I am flattered, but they are wrong. The Title and Quote are From Chinua Achebe's "Things Fall Apart" It is not to be confused with that story this is a Chronicles of Narnia fanfiction. Please do not sue me!

_**A/N: **__I had this idea from a little epiphany… I'll explain later. But anyway, I thought to myself, what if Aravis and Cor never met? So this is the situation, Edmund, Susan and the Narnian Troop never went to Calormen, but in the same way, Rabadash never attacked Archenland. Cor never left Archenland, Aravis never left Calormen, Bree and Hwin never left Narnia. Here are some things that stayed the same. Aravis and Cor lost their mothers, Rabadash remains an irrepressible imbecile, and Aravis' brother is still dead. As you may have guessed, Aravis is married to Ahoshta Tarkaan._

_For anyone who is currently reading anything else I may have done, I have not abandoned them, I will be updating soo__n, I just had to get this out of my head._

_Much Love!_

_FLF xoxo_

* * *

**Calormen**

The world had become very dusty. That was what Prince Cor first noticed about Calormen; it was dusty. The heat was not such a big deal; after all, he'd spent a good few weeks in Galma. But this was a different kind of heat, altogether more… dusty, dirty, and when it wasn't dusty, it was wet, very wet, like being thrown under a waterfall, all the time. It was strange definitely. It was fair to say, they were not in Archenland anymore. But this didn't bother Cor as much as it should have. He was intrigued by this new country, where it rained in summer, and women gleaned in flooded fields of grass like plants. He was curious of their attire and Architecture, long columns and domed roofs. Cor felt that despite the fact that he would be surrounded by old and boring (not to mention Calormene) Politicians for the rest of his "holiday," he could enjoy it here.

His brother was likewise dismal and bleak over the prospect of five weeks in this hot and dusty country, but he saw no fun for weeks; boxing was illegal in Calormen since the death of Shin Tarkaan in a fight against a nameless peasant. At this moment as the Archen flagship _The Ruby Rose_ docked in the Bay, Corin was being scolded by the boys' age old tutor, Mr Franklin, for a crime he hadn't committed yet.

Mr Franklin was as old as the hills, bent over with a cane he wasn't concerned to use. He held his spectacles on a long stick, despite the invention of the handles which could be placed over the ears. He was a conventional person, and followed the rule that nothing ever changes, and especially not people.

This is why Mr Franklin wasn't taking any chances with Corin. "You must see that you are on your best behaviour, Prince Corin. In this city, tomfoolery which you get away with at home, could lead to horrible punishments…" Franklin appeared to shudder at the though of it. Cor believed him to have recalled some passed trauma. Perhaps he put his foot in his mouth.

Corin disregarded this, and sighed. "Come on Frankie, do you really think I'm up to no good? What about Precious over there?" he pointed in Cor's direction. "Why do you never anticipate anything from him?"

"Because, Prince Cor has proved himself responsible," Mr Franklin said with finality. "and does not act in a juvenile manner when reproached."

"And because Prince Cor does not travel with boxing gloves to a country where the sport is banned." Cor remarked.

"I wasn't going to use them!" Corin replied defensively "You of all should know that they're my lucky charm!"

"Yes," Cor mumbled in agreement "I still have the bruises."

"D'you want another one?"

Cor raised his eyebrows in challenge.

"Either way, and Prince Cor I would this goes for you too," Mr Franklin put himself in between the boys and said, "You are here as ambassadors for your father, no one expects you to attend all of the meetings, the Foreign Secretary was not planning on having you there anyway. What I'm trying to say is; you are being trusted to be in a new city on your own, your father hopes that this trust is not unfounded."

Cor sighed inwardly, Father trusts us to go to practise our swordsmanship with full length swords, sharpened to a point, but doesn't trust us on holiday for the first time without a babysitter! He thought for a moment, and realised this was probably a good idea.

Stepping off the gangplank and into the docks, Cor saw that the two ships that had followed them were carrying all kinds of gifts from the hull. He wondered why Archenland sent gifts as a way of securing peace while Narnia didn't. He asked Corin.

"Because Narnia wouldn't have to worry about a troop of Calormene soldiers marching across the River Arrow," Corin said this with a little discomfort, Cor watched him strangely.

"Do you think the four will come to the coronation?" Cor asked his brother.

"Not if they don't have to." Corin replied "Which they don't. But they might come to settle trade interests; Queen Lucy's rather fond of Calormene silks."

So Cor had heard. But it was of no consequence were they not to come. After all, King Lune had decided to send his sons as ambassadors rather than go himself. Cor for one was looking forward to being in Calormen, he had heard much from his mentors of Calormen. It was a land of exotic fruits and warm lakes. Of long and dusty deserts stretching as far as the eye could see, or imagine. And the Cities of Gold and Alabaster, this land was rich; Cor for one was impressed looking at the pinnacle of the gleaming city of Tashbaan. But despite this, he couldn't help noticing the heavy iron gates he passed through, and the high walls, he couldn't help but notice the guards standing tall with long curved scimitars at their sides, and he couldn't help wonder what it was, in this wide desolate wasteland, that they were trying so hard to keep out?

*

Aravis could not remember the first time she saw Calormen. It was her birth day. But her earliest memory was of her mother making her some cool sherbet in a heat wave, which had caused the air to shiver. She had drunk down the sherbet greedily. She remembered her mother laughing and wiping down her face. So it was hot. She did not think so anymore. She stood between thin cotton drapes which blew in the chill wind, which blew the blossom off the trees. She looked out from this balcony onto the City and her courtyard. Being Wife of the Grand Vizier was not Aravis' highest aim, nor was it her first. But as she watched the slaves set up for the evening, she realised it was the only conclusion of her life, and so she was content.

She stood up and thought about dressing herself. She saw her brother's scimitar in the glass cabinet by the window, and wondered if anyone would object to her using it. She fought with it all the time in Calavar; but only when her father was away. She knew he wouldn't be too happy about it. She'd managed to bring it with her when she married Ahoshta.

She picked it up out of the cabinet and pulled the blade out of the thick leather sheath. The blade had words etched into it when her brother turned sixteen. His teacher Master Milao had given it to him, as Father did not want his son to fight, but to be a diplomat. It said

_Let me be the light for the way; that __they will know that I was here._

Aravis never understood this. She loved the blade though; it was so light that she could use it easily. It felt fluid-like in her hands and the hilt was so pretty, the leather had figures stiched into it, small and delicate… Aravis sighed and put it back; knowing that it was useless to dream, as one has always to wake up.

There was a knock on the door and a maid brought Aravis breakfast to her. She left it on the table on the balcony, and bowed leaving the room.

"Wait." Aravis called to her.

The maid turned slowly, her hands clasped in front of her, her head bowed "Yes, Tarkeena?"

"Could you tell the slaves to prepare my bath, I need to get ready now." She ordered.

"Yes Tarkeena."

"And tell the grounds man to cut back this tree, I can't see the view."

"Yes Tarkeena."

"And take down that horrid banner outside! It looks ridiculous."

"I'll tell the decorator immediately, Tarkeena." The maid left as quickly as she came.

Aravis sighed and looked out on the City. The day looked clear and Aravis could see far out into the desert, she strained her eyes believing she saw something on the blurred horizon. She thought she saw two peaks rising out of the northern horizon, diminishing in the haze that crowded the Desert. She sighed. She knew what the walls were for; they were to keep her in.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Hey! Look at that! You read the whole thing! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I now remind you that feedback is necessary for updates, so please review, or else i don't know what else needs to be done. Thankyou for your time!_

_Much Love_

_FLF xoxo_


	2. Sighs

_**Disclaimer:**__ The following is a fanbased parody__**,The Chronicles of Narnia**__ belong to C. S. Lewis, 20__th__ Century Fox and Walden Media._

_**A/N: **__Would like to thank my two reviewers for your encouragement, and please continue to support me, I'm glad you've enjoyed the first chapter. The last bit of this one may confuse, this is sort of an in between chapter trying to portray Aravis' character without the influence of Archen society. Believe me while this chapter is not brilliant, the next will be, stay with me!!_

_Please Enjoy, I do try, and Review please!_

_Much Love!_

_FLF xoxo_

**Sighs**

Still the Dust rose. It littered the feet of the palanquin bearers and their long robes became brown with it, as it stuck like parasites weighing them down. Should Aravis have noticed? Whatever for? There was still so much preoccupying her mind that she had no time to worry over the meaningless affairs of the slaves. She sat back in her seat. Other members of the court were happy to have litters with long elegant couches making their trips throughout Tashbaan almost unnoticeable, but Aravis saw a litter or a Palanquin as only a source of travel, a means to an end, much like her marriage.

The noise of the crier disturbed her thoughts as she weighed in her mind the tasks necessary for the day. The Archen nobility should have arrived that morning and would be being welcomed in the Tisroç's palace at that very moment and the Calimarean Duck had not arrived yet. Although that was of little concern, it was to be the fifth of eight courses that night and Aravis had arranged for Peppered goose to be prepared in the case that it did not arrive in time, while it was embarrassing to serve one's guest any less than the best, Aravis imagined it far more so to serve them only seven courses, and only three of which would contain meat. She had heard that the Barbarians were very fond of meat, gorging it in their vast bare halls. This was odd, in Aravis' opinion, she was much averted to meat, and only forced herself to eat it in preservation of her husband's honour.

Furthermore, the guestlist was to be looked over; Aravis, while honoured that so many high ranking officials of the Calormean court were willing to attend her little party, knew that several of these officials were enormously dull and a good hostess does not reduce her guests to speaking with dull people. She would have to make sure that her husband did not re-invite several Tarkaans, incuding the Minister of the Interior, Girad Tarkaan; while he was a man to fear, he did not have the gift of good conversation, and so would continually babble on about the unruly lower classes. But Aravis belived herself too polite to put a slipper in his mouth and call it a day.

'I suppose that's my curse,' she thought.

Suddenly there was more noise than simply the howls of the crier. Yells and screams managed to penetrate the silk curtains of the palanquin. Outraged aravis, tore the curtains open. A gaggle of peasants were cowering in a corner of the street.

"Dance! Dance!" came the cries.

Aravis heard the squeals of an animal, and the harsh crack of a long whip, long after she saw the whip fly in the air. Grabbing one of the palanquin bearers, she asked "What in the name of Tash is the meaning of this!"

"Your pardon Tarkeena," the bearer said, "But we had to pass through this part of town to reach the seamstress' offices in time to pick up your robes for the eveinings activity." He bowed his head shorty, "but fear not Tarkeena for one of the poets rightly said, 'Persistence lets the light show itself at the end of the tunnel and-'"

"Oh do desist!" Aravis said, "After thirteen years tutelage I do not need you to quote the poets to me! Now what is the commotion about?"

The bearer bowed his head and murmured something about finding out what was happening. The palanquin was lowered and Aravis saw the bearer in his red uniform dissolve into the crowd, it took three and a half minutes for him to return.

"It would seem that a the owner of a monkey is making him dance on hot coals, Tarkeena."

"He's doing what?!"

Aravis leapt down from the palanquin, ignoring the bearers' cries for her safety snd stood on the edge of the crowd, waiting for her bearers to part the way for her. The bearers drew their scimitars and parted the crowd, giving Aravis a path. With the same authority that she used when talking to her slaves Aravis marched right into the middle of the crowd. Sure enough, there on a tray of hot curning coals, a small brown monkey danced, the bells on his ankles, and the red ribbons around his neck shaking violently. Watchign this sight, as the mnkey whimpered and licked his paws before dancing once more, swelled up so much anger in Aravis' heart. She clamped her fists to her side, but still felt them shake as she walked up to the man in the centre of the crowd who held a thick black bullwhip. It seemed that he was the one in charge here.

"What do you believe you are doing?" she asked him, "Take that monkey off the coals immediately!"

The man gave her a once over, and scoffed, "Who are you to tell me what to do woman?"

Aravis' eyes narrowed and her head tilted down a little. Her face had murder written all over it. The bearers behind her must have noticed her anger, for they began to shake.

"That is not the question peasant." Aravis said quietly. "But if you must know, for your insolence, I could have you excecuted, you worthless, low-class, dog. In Tash's name count yourself fortunate that I do not have my servants run you through where you stand and leave your body to burn on the very coals that poor monkey danced on."

The crowd fell silent at her voice. But Aravis ignored their gaze.

"Now," she said "take that monkey off the coals, and hand him to me."

The man obeyed, quickly, handing the writhing monkey to Aravis. She took it quickly and marched back to her palanquin. The bearers followed her slightly confused, but Aravis ignored them, she knew that she had done right by this poor little monkey. She would take him back to her house, and there his burns could heal. As the little creature's wide brown eyes closed, Aravis wondered if anything else would.

*

'She still doesn't know my name does she?' Tamar thought as she fixed the linen on her mistress' bed. 'I have worked four long years for her, and she still does not know my name. Selfish Cow.'

Tamar folded over the top part of the bed linen, and began placing the cushions back onto the bed. She no longer wondered if her mistress cared after her name. Why should she? After all selfishness came with the title. Tamar had been working since she could stand, first in the cotton fields, then she scrubbed floors for the Minister of the Interior. Somehow she found her way to the title of "hand-maid," which just meant a slave who is paid more, and makes sure her mistress never has to raise a hand.

Thinking back on her life, Tamar realised she hadn't always been this angry, not always. She remembered a time when she was somewhere near happy, when she worked for Arandin Tarkaan's daughter, Shreya Tarkeena. The little girl brought joy to her life, always cheery and never thought badly of anyone. But then, how could a three year old think badly of anyone. Why was she removed? So suddenly, a good part of her life was taken, like it meant nothing; ripped of her like a leg with gangrene. She was found other work, she was to be "hand-maid" to a spoiled pampered brat who married a man old enough and rich enough to spoil her even further. But that would not have meant anything if she had been happy with that. But no, not her mistress. Despite all the good fortune in her favour, the Tarkeena was a soulless, callous, miserable person, sighing into the windows, like she had problems. Tamar couldn't stand it!

"I'd give anything to have half her luck." She said quietly, looking back at the made bed. "Anything at all."

Tamar moved to the balcony, and looked to take up the dirty things from the Tarkeena's breakfast. She wasn't surprised to see the food untouched; it wasn't uncommon for the mistress on her sighing days to leave her breakfast. Looking out the window, Tamar saw the palanquin returning. The mistress stepped out and walked toward the house, in her hands she held something, something that moved.

"Well if mistress Aravis wants a pet, I suppose I shall have to take care of it." Tamar took up the dishes and walked out of the room, "But if she thinks that I am going to clean out its cage, Mistress Aravis is very much mistaken."

'Mistress will want help dressing, and with her jewellery, and the bath for the evening must be drawn.' With a sigh Tamar knew that with the return of the Tarkeena, the dreaded evening had begun.

_**A/N**__: I would like to take this time to congratulate some people for their outstanding efforts… YOU! CONGRATULATIONS FOR READING THIS CHAPTER THE WHOLE WAY THROUGH! And yes I am being sarcastic. No really thank you for reading (If you didn't actually read the whole thing and just skimmed through it like I sometimes do, then I am sorry for YOU! HA!)… Please ignore my bracketed rants. Many thanks for reading and now do click on the little button which means that I won't lie awake at night worrying over the horrid state of my writing skills._

_Much Love!_

_FLF xoxo_


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